


Shots and Chasers: Stand-Alones in the "Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin" Universe

by SullustanGin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: 6.2 Spoilers, Action/Adventure, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, One Shot Collection, Prompt Fic, Regret, Romance, Slice of Life, Smuggler Crew reunion, Smuggler Storyline Spoilers, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Onslaught Spoilers, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Shadow of Revan, Star Wars: The Old Republic - The Nathema Conspiracy Spoilers, Theron Feels, Work In Progress, bounty hunter storyline spoilers, mention of infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullustanGin/pseuds/SullustanGin
Summary: This is a collection of prompts and independent shards of WIPs, consolidated in one place.  If you're curious about the fic series and aren't sure about investing the time yet, read a few of these to get a taste (or, if you're waiting for the next installment, a fix).  Each chapter is a stand-alone; prompt, prompter, time period, and any romantic ship identified at the top.  This entry is always marked as 'complete' but it will be updated as prompts flow in.  Tags updated regularly.Updated 01/28/2021 with 4 new chapters.Updated 11/16 with a new chapter.Updated 11/25 with a new chapter.
Relationships: Mako/Akaavi Spar, Theron Shan/Female Smuggler
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Worthy: A Study of Darth Marr

“I bet you wish you had some esteemed Sith Lord like Lana Beniko to die with you, instead of this.” She looked nothing like her, sounded nothing like her, and did not think like her (or him) at all. 

But she was scrappy, and she didn’t fear him. He could crush her thin windpipe with a stray thought, yet she once had the audacity to brag about her destruction of the Imperial Stock Market. She forced his hand without an ounce of measurable power.

He liked that. For a reason. 

“No. I had a daughter once, like you.” He took perverse joy in startling her, something he did every so often, since their first meeting on Rishi. “She was more troublesome than any Force-bearing child. I was not present at her death. The Empire did not care about people like her, and I could not prioritize her.” A beat. “That does not mean she wasn’t worthy.” 

Darth Marr had been strangely relieved when his only daughter was not Force-sensitive at all. She belonged to no one, not even him. She lived in shadows. 

(Her mother was gone two years after her clandestine birth, and Marr killed his lover’s assassin and all gossip sneaking out of Dromund Kaas about the useless child hidden in its secret passageways and dark corners.) 

Her life was her own, and it was short. Brutally short. Republic patrols caught her ship in their space-- they had no idea who she was when they shot at her. She was a good pilot and mechanic -- she’d calibrated his personal fighter to respond to him and to his suit. That was how she limped back to Imperial space, activated her mayday hail, and survived long enough to be picked up by an Imperial destroyer.

She died of radiation poisoning and burns. Marr knew she was suffering and dying, under the name her mother gave her. Her father felt it through the Force. However the Empire was his greater devotion, and it needed him as the the invasion of Coruscant drew ever closer. He did not go to her.

Devotion and regret went hand-in-hand. Atonement and death did as well. Darth Marr’s steps did not falter as he accompanied a different young woman, numb to the Force, to their assured deaths. This one wouldn’t be alone. 


	2. Learning to Fly, Hour 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the taste of Vodka at the back of your throat  
> Prompter: Halethebop  
> Setting: Post-Smuggler Storyline  
> Ships: None

102.5.

Dammit.

Eva let the digital thermometer drop to the dashboard, the laser light powering down. She had to get this fever down or else there were no pilots left on Virtue’s Thief.

Akaavi had tracked it on board from one of her gatherings with other Mandalorians. She had felt shame for bringing an intruder onboard, even if it was microscopic and invisible. She was laid low now for a week, fatigued and thirsty. Risha got it next; she slept for 16 hours a day and nothing tasted good. Corso came down with it due to the re-circulation of air throughout the ship. He tried to man up and hide it, and then he fainted in the galley, sending the caf carafe flying all over the wall.

Captain Eva Corolastor was the last pilot standing on the Thief. And now she had it, whatever this bug was. At the moment, her only symptoms were a sore throat and a fever. Her marbles were all there, she thought; she could tell what were fevered delusions and what was reality. 

What shouldn’t you do to fight hypothermia? Have a drink; it lowers the core body temperature. Therefore, it was a thing to do to fight hyperthermia. 

Eva didn’t have the best education. But sometimes the logic worked out.

Eva figured the most direct route had the highest proof -- vodka it was. Eva marched herself back to the galley and retrieved a bottle of vodka. She poured out a shot. First, she gargled with it, then she held it back, letting the clean, harsh taste of vodka linger at the back of her throat. Hopefully, it would kill anything living back there. 

She spat it out in the galley sink, then turned the faucet on to wash away the waste. Then she took two shots in rapid succession, letting false heat force her to sweat, just a little. The chills that followed were considered a good sign. 

It was at this point that the Wookiee came into the galley. “You don’t look so good, little girl.”

“We’re out of pilots. I’m staving off a fever.” Eva felt no need to hide her condition from one of the two crew members still standing.

Bowdaar groaned in displeasure. “We need to get to Port Nowhere or Pub Fleet and shoot you humanoids up with retrovirals. We cannot go on like this.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Eva said hoarsely. She turned to head back to the cockpit and reset the course.

The firm grip of Bowdaar’s claws dug into her shoulder -- not to hurt, just to make her think. “You need to lie down.”

Eva shook her head. “Someone has got to drive. I got a thermometer up front. As long as I’m under 103, it’s going to be ok.” 

Bowdaar grunted at her. “I’m coming with you.” She didn’t argue. 

She dropped herself into her pilot’s chair, a bone-tired fatigue sneaking up on her. Eva grabbed the thermometer and aimed it at her forehead. Bowdaar scolded her. “Too close. You need it to be further away. Let me.” He pried it out of her hands, pulled the sensor back the appropriate distance, and took the reading. “102.”

“That’s actually an improvement,” Eva replied as cheerily as she could muster. “Setting course for the closest port.” Her hands keyed in the necessary coordinators and trackers. She remembered not with her mind but with her muscles. Eva knew she wasn’t firing on all cylinders. 

Bowdaar stubbornly sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Well, I can’t leave here either.” A fever-inspired idea came to her. “You ever have an interest in flying, Bowie?”

He scoffed at her. “My interest in navigating the sky has gone as far as climbing the highest tree on a planet.”

“Want to expand that horizon?” Eva gave her companion a side-wise glance. “It’s you or Guss, if I crack 103. I don’t want to die yet.”

Bowdaar stared out the front viewport of Virtue’s Thief. Then, slowly, he rumbled, “If I learn, I’m free to go anywhere I want on my own ship, one day.”

“Edge of the Galaxy is the limit. You need 1500 hours for me to feel satisfied with you flying the Thief by yourself, but hell, if you wanted to get one of those pull-button start jobs for idiot diplomats or small-time jobs, you’d be ready in less than a week.” Eva let her head lean back against the headrest of her chair. “Up to you.”

There was a long pause before Bowdaar answered her. “Who am I to deny myself greater freedoms? How do you tune the galactic broadcasts on this thing?”

Despite the wooziness that threatened her, Eva laughed. 

And thus began Hour 1 of 1500 for Bowdaar’s flight training.


	3. Leaving A Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fingertips smudged in blue ink  
> Prompter: shanfamilydrama  
> Time: Yavin IV campaign  
> Ship: Theron Shan/Eva Corolastor (smuggler)

“Eva?” Theron’s voice echoed through _Virtue’s Thief_. Risha had told him she was holed up in her quarters, looking for something. 

Eva’s voice floated back toward him. “Yo—oh. In quarters. You can come in.” 

Theron walked through the curved hallway of the _Thief._ He carefully stuck his head into her private room and let out a low whistle. If a bomb had gone off, the resulting chaos may have been somewhat more orderly. Handwritten books and file folders consumed the entire room, covering every surface from her vanity to her bed to her floor. A thin path marked the way her feet had tread earlier, terminating at her perch.

Eva’s dark eyes peered at him from atop her desk, over the top of a leather bound logbook. 

“You know you have a chair for that,” he reminded her as he leaned on her doorframe.

“Occupied with my filing system,” she replied, sinking back into the book she was examining. She tilted it slightly to catch the Yavin sunlight streaming through the _Thief’s_ viewports. 

Theron scanned the shambles. “There’s a system. That’s a revelation.”

Eva tutted at him from her desk. “What do you need?”

“Figured I’d help look you look for whatever it is you’re looking for and expedite your reentry out into the world.” Theron stepped into her quarters carefully and looked around for a place to sit. That was a fruitless venture. He then reached for a notebook, just to look through it. 

The handwriting was very neat, following a format unknown to the SIS agent. He noted that the paper discouraged smudging, but if someone uninvited came to look at the books, they would leave their mark on the bearer; the ink transferred to skin, not to the paper or to other inked sections. 

Clever, much like the owner. It would catch the interloper red-handed, possibly literally.

Eva shook her head, and she switched her grip on the book to a single-hand so she could talk at him with the other. “No. It’s all in my shorthand and in smuggler code. I’m checking to see if any affiliates and patterns changed since my last jaunt on Nar Shaddaa with a mysteriously well-built swoop rider.” Theron grinned slightly as he watched her long thin fingers punctuate her sentences, the fingertips smudged in blue ink. “After that and Katalla, I’m thinking the Hutts may be bankrolling Revanites.” 

The hand went to her face, smearing the ink on the delicate features; this wasn’t the first book of the day, so small thin black fingerprints already decorated her face. Now he had to hold back his laughter – sometimes she was too clever for her own good, and thus she was caught blue-and-black-handed in her own logbooks.

“That may make sense. The Revanites have pursued exclusively Imperial and Republic ships. No interest seemingly in Voidfleet or in the Cartel.” Theron considered the idea more seriously. “That’s a switch from when they convinced the Cartel to put deathmarks on Jakarro.”

“They still dog Imps and Pubs, but we haven’t heard a complaint out of the Hutts since.” Eva’s lips pursed and then the eyes lit up. She grabbed at another notebook she had to her right side, opening it to a marked page. “Black markets tend to be highly volatile – you can’t track any trends or predict what the next hot item will be. However, when something consistent starts to happen, it stands out… if you know what you might be looking for.” 

Eva was all speed and motion as she nimbly leapt from the desk to a tiny clear spot on the floor, then managed to dart around Theron on the incredibly thin path that led out of her quarters. Theron cast one last glance at the paper flood that had consumed her room, then followed her out to the lounge table, where she had a pen and yet another paper book waiting for her. 

Theron didn’t even _know_ where one could buy paper anymore. Flimsi was a plastic-based substance that was prevalent all over the Empire and Republic. Marr had mumbled something about _his_ school days when he first saw her maps. 

As Theron approached, he saw Eva draw a rough chart on the fresh piece of paper, using data from both notebooks. He stood back slightly to watch her work. A linear increase gradually appeared, the nib of the pen scratching away busily. 

Theron didn’t know how long he stood watching Eva do her work. As a final flourish, she added a few hash marks and data points in her precise hand and then she used one of the books to fan the fresh ink dry. “Factor that into your analysis. See what you get.” 

Eva’s eyes came up to meet his, and Theron couldn’t help but feel just a bit special – she retrieved that data for him. Disregarding the ink, Theron kissed her, knowing full well his face would be a mirrored, smudgy mess. When her free hand came up to touch his face, he held back his laughter, knowing the inevitable result. 

Much to her credit, Eva kept fanning the drying ink, even as Theron did his best to distract her.

When they finally broke apart, Eva stared at him for a second before a peal of laughter rang through the ship. “Your – your face. My handprint…” And then it dawned on her. “Oh, stars, I must look diseased.”

Now that made him laugh out loud, and the chart was temporarily abandoned as they went to the galley to scrub away the ink of a too-clever smuggler security system. 


	4. Theft of Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: a memory Eva regrets  
> Prompter: Anonymous  
> Time: Chapter 2 of the Smuggler storyline  
> No ships

“Listen, you want to continue to play with the big kids, redirect the shipment to Port Nowhere. Tell Darmas Pollaran I sent you.” Eva’s hand lingered over her blaster as Ozzik’s mouth worked, the jaw slack in shock.

“You’re— you’re a privateer for the Republic, like I am – the people need the medical supplies and vaccines I’m carrying. I can’t just –” Ozzik’s lips snapped shut as Eva finally pulled her blaster.

“You most certainly can. And you will,” Eva coolly replied. “Have you even checked what’s in the boxes you’re carrying for the Pubs?”

Ozzik silently scowled at her in the red-orange light of Quesh.

“If you look beyond the first two layers of health supplies, you’re going to find blasters. Grenades. Armor. Assault weapons.” Lithe Eva slipped past Ozzik and opened one of the crates in question. She rooted through it, eyes and blaster fixed on Ozzik. 

When she grasped what she wanted from an inside pocket of her sleeve, Eva showed her hand, feigning triumph. “A real humanitarian cause, Ozzik. How many little fingers do you think this thing can take off? When the Pubs arm civies – their child soldiers – with toys like this?” Eva dropped the blaster on the dirt. Ozzik was too angry to look close, too angry to realize that this was an old blaster, a used one, one Eva used as for target practice as a child.

“Take it. Take it all. I’ll see you at Port Nowhere, sometime.” As Ozzik walked off, Eva only flinched a little when she heard him say, “There’s no good side in the galaxy after all.” 

She only flinched a little.


	5. The Taste for Spies Is Not For the Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: a memory that strains a relationship   
> Prompter: anonymous  
> Time: Post-Crisis on Umbara  
> Ships: Reference to Theron Shan/Eva Corolastor (smuggler oc)

Guss met Lana in her office as agreed, two days after Eva had returned from Umbara. “You got the security tape from the Battle of Corellia. The Imp hospital there.” Guss always knew – Eva always knew someone had it somewhere. “You need to watch it. With me. I was with her.” Guss stood in the office, sensing the storm of feelings that flowed off the Sith.

The Sith were just rotten at containing negative emotions. Jedi at least could gloss over it, staple a grin to their faces even as they dreamed of snapping your neck. Sith - nope. You knew they wanted to break you into a million pieces, feed you to their rakghoul, and then use the fertilizer to plant some alchemical Sith man-eating plants or something weird. Lana was a different Sith, but not that different.

Lana rose from behind her desk. “I’m afraid I’m don’t see the purpose of it. It’s from before any of our paths crossed. It– it won’t explain what Theron did–”

Guss was shaking his head. “No, you don’t understand at all. It’s not about him. She’s gone.”

Lana’s eyes widened as she checked her security alerts. “The Thief is still in port. No shuttles have left – the Commander is -”

“Gone,” Guss interrupted her again. He rolled his eyes at her, as only a Mon Calamari could - nothing sarcastic or insulting about it. “Pull up the Sith intel and watch it. Now.” After a moment. “Please.”

Lana exhaled through her nose and waited for her datapad to comply with the ancient request. “It’s archived – it’ll take a minute to unzip and unpack.” Lana’s patience was short. Guss could feel it; she’d rather be killing Theron or comforting Eva, but he was gone and she – gone. Unavailable.

Finally, Lana was able to hit play on her datapad. The footage was old, and he and Eva were walking into the hospital room where Darmas was getting ready to have his face replaced. Guss knew he’d put on weight, but kark, he was a slob these days. Too much hand-waving and not enough running like a coward.

He nudged Lana gently. “Fast forward past this part. Get to the part after she shoots him in the leg. Or watch the part where she shoots him in the leg – that never gets old.”

Lana gave him a sour look, but she let him watch the part where Eva shot Darmas in the leg. The sour look vanished as Eva’s facade as the Voidhound dropped. Just for a few seconds.

“Has it been a lie since the day we met? Did you ever love me, or was it all just part of the act?” Eva was only 22. She was hurt. She was frightened. Guss had remembered the crack in her voice, the appearance of glassy tears she fought viciously to keep in. He remembered all the drinking before and all the lightyears she jumped after.

Lana went white, making sound like the air had been punched out of her. She stopped the tape. That’s all she needed to hear – Guss had made his point. She took several minutes to collect herself, sitting down heavily in her chair.

Guss had the cold comfort of being right – of the Force telling him he was right all along. “I’m guessing it sounds familiar, huh, Lana?”

She nodded, still slow to speak. “I was stunned. I – heard fragments of the conversation. No, not a conversation. A monologue. A staged speech. He provoked her. After those words – the ones we just heard – she was silent. Unresponsive.” Lana swallowed and started over again. “First he told her she would be disintegrated - not feeling anything. She said that. She said exactly that!” Lana’s voice rose in pitch, the realization striking her in her well-guarded heart. “And then she was silent as he said everything else. He – he couldn’t get her to speak again. He tried. If he wasn’t doing what he was, I’d swear he was worried.”

Guss turned off the datapad. “Captain told us about… the thing she did when she first got back. Conversations with people who were not there. Reliving the past….”

“Dissociating. She was dissociating,” Lana harshly clarified. “And even though I was the one with her through that – I didn’t realize it happened. I thought it was over, once Valkorion was gone. It’s happened again, on Umbara.”

Guss nodded. “That’s what I mean by she’s gone.”

He’d watched Eva board the ship after, after the speech, Risha greeting her with a jab about not using the script she’d prepared or getting the bounty set on his head, asking her what was the point of writing that if she was just going to beg him to take her back – and then she’d shattered into a million pieces. At the next morning – when Guss and Corso and Bowie had dared to set foot back on the ship – she was gone. 

“She’s there. We ran all over the galaxy after the Darmas thing and the Voidhound thing. Never stopped moving. She … can’t do that now. Cuz of the Alliance.” Guss shrugged. “So if she can’t be free out there, she’s just checked out and left it to…. her. The Voidhound. Cold. Efficient. Unfeeling. There’s no sadness. There’s absolutely no joy. It’s an alter ego that she used to protect us… and maybe to protect herself. And now it’s in charge.”

“What does that mean?” Lana asked. “Where do we go from here?”

Guss felt his heart drop. “I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s already gone. If bringing him back brings her back. If finishing him brings her back or –” Guss looked at Lana. “Don’t kill him. That’s what the Force is telling me. Don’t kill him.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Lie to me. Please. You wouldn’t be the first beautiful woman to do it.” 


	6. Souvenirs from Alderaan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: several questions about holo/picture taking  
> Promtpers: halethebop and previousjane on tumblr  
> Time: Post-Ossus, Pre- Onslaught  
> Ship: Theron Shan/Eva Corolastor (smuggler)  
> CW: infertility (but nobody is upset about it. Jace is awkward)

“Oh, come on, Theron. You can’t just sit on Alderaan and do nothing but eat.” Eva peered eagerly out the viewport as Theron maneuvered his shuttle down through Alderaan’s atmosphere. 

Theron cast a look over to her, lips pulling into a grin as he saw her excitement. “Well, you’ve managed to somehow jam up my implants so they can’t synch with datapads, so I can’t even _try_ to work. Eating my way through the best restaurants on a planet _is_ my only non-work-related hobby that you approve of –”

“I approve of swoop racing.” Eva turned to look at him, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Yeah, but then you want to join in and give me a heart attack.”

“I’m a good swooper—” she started to object.

“No, you’re terrifying. I’ll give you credit for being the best pilot I’ve ever met for passenger speeders, freighters, starships, starfighters, anything the Republic has on a registry, and a suspicious number of Zakuulian and Imp ships---”

Eva raised a finger at that. “Hey, if I can hotwire it, I can fly it.”

“—but you on a swoop bike is whole different prospect, and I’d prefer _you_ to be in the stands or at the bar, watching _me_ show the new swoop gangs how it’s done.” Theron darted another glance over at her. Then he noticed the comm light blinking on his dashboard. Jace was hailing them.

He knew she saw it, which is probably why she chose to say at that moment, “Yeah, I can think of better things to put between my legs than a swoop bike.”

Jace’s signal had to wait a minute longer as Theron attempted to compose himself. “Promise me –” He had to stop to let a laugh escape him. “Promise me you’ll keep any ‘riding’ jokes to a minimum.”

Eva gave him a look, which begged for an explanation.

“Jace named his old racing swoop Tanya…” Theron let himself trail off as Eva burst into giggles. “If you start with that, I will hide in the guest house, away from you and away from him and away from whatever garage Tanya is in. I swear it.” 

Eva nodded, still shaking silently as Theron answered the hail and transmitted his incoming coordinates to secure landing clearance at the compound’s private landing pad. Jace and Theron had spoken over holo comm a few times, but they hadn’t seen each other in ages. Iokath, Theron remembered. 

Jace had visited Odessen when he was gone and saw Eva. Theron hadn’t missed Jace’s meaning when he sent him a congratulations on their elopement: “Married life suits you – and her.” 

He’d almost lost her in multiple ways in the name of trying to save her.

No more – Theron shook his head. He was going to be _with her_ on their first _actual_ vacation _together_. That included him not getting stuck in his head.

“What, thinking of other ways I’ll act up?” Eva had caught him already.

“Nah.” Theron figured she didn’t need to know what he was thinking in that moment. Distract. Divert. “Just thinking about all those vacation days I stockpiled from SIS that I never used. Wonder if I could get comp for that now – five years late.”

Eva saw right through that. “If you want, we can stop by the gift shop first thing and buy you something to amuse yourself and keep you from thinking of work or whatever.” He could feel her warm gaze upon him, and he had to smile despite himself. Yes, despite his training and his efforts, he could never fully pull off the mysterious spy act around her. 

As the shuttle started its automated descent and parking procedures, Theron undid his safety belt and stood up, moving toward their few pieces of luggage; they both traveled light. “No need for the gift shop – you already got the best souvenir from Alderaan available.” 

As Theron turned around to flash that cocky grin with all the bravado he could muster, he heard her laugh, surprised. Theron rarely talked about the circumstances of his existence – for him to joke about it was something new. Then again, things he had previously thought were impossible for him were completely easy with her. 

As he faced her, his hands on their bags, her eyes were bright, and she was smiling. “Can’t argue that,” she agreed, smug. He was hers, after all. 

**

Theron’s augmented hearing caught the slight mechanical whine of a holo cam warming up on his left side. “Don’t do that. Security risk.”

Jace harrumphed from his seat across the table. The three of them had just finished up a languid, socially easy lunch. Eva had wanted a walk outside once it started snowing. Theron had agreeably wrapped her up in his coat (layering it over hers), saying he’d be out soon; Eva had given him a quick nod and a kiss, understanding that he and Jace probably should talk about … whatever. 

That was the intent. Neither man was a natural conversationalist, however. There was the flaw in that plan, once Eva left.

As Theron watched his wife through the window, he saw her dark hair become speckled with white. Theron had never let himself watch her too closely when they first worked together; it felt predatory. It was only after she gave her explicit consent that he let himself look as much as he wanted – which was an embarrassing amount.

Theron turned his head toward Jace, a wary look on his face. “I’m still her spy.” The fabric of his black sweater brushed against the underside side of his jaw.

The older man, with eyes a darker shade than Theron’s own, regarded him. “You’re lucky for that.”

“I know. I don’t take her for granted.” He hesitated a moment, then held out his hand for Jace’s holo cam. 

Jace wordlessly handed it over, and Theron stood to shoot through the window. He rapped on the plastisteel twice to get her attention, and she looked at him. He pointed at the holo cam, and, saucy thing she was, she stuck her tongue out at him. He squeezed the shutter and made face back at her through the window. Eva tolerated a few shots, and then she waved him back away from the window – either come out here or do business in there.

She was right, he supposed. 

But a few more shots wouldn’t hurt, even as she mockingly glared at him and turned around, flouncing away from the holo cam’s range. 

“You always that much of a shutterbug?” came Jace’s voice.

“She’s not a spy. Doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to you. I saw you with those holos on her ship.”

Yeah. It was all he had left of her at the time. He still didn’t care how pathetic he had looked, trying to convince Jace that Eva was a great gal and that it was an even better idea to leave the Republic (and his pension, due in just a couple of years) in order to rescue her from carbonite. It was the most honest he’d been about his feelings for her in front of Jace.

It wasn’t well-received.

“Yes.”

“She mind?”

“No.”

Silence ensued. Theron watched her explore the expanse of Jace’s property. 

“You two ever talk about kids?”

For a split second, Theron thought he’d drop the damn holo cam. What the hell, Jace? Fortunately, his agent training kicked in, and he checked all movement and his voice was even. “Yes. No, because of the carbonite. Final word came down while I was away.” He didn’t know why he added that last part. Maybe it was the guilt for being absent at that moment. 

Theron looked over at Jace and was perversely pleased to find him now sitting awkwardly, fingers drumming on the edge of the tablecloth, clearly not anticipating that answer. One hand reached up to tug at his collar nervously. He knew he’d stepped in it. “Is she --?”

Theron rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a problem for them – for other people, maybe, but not them and their lives. “She’s more annoyed the choice was taken away from her. Her career hasn’t exactly been child-safe.”

“And you?” Jace looked at him, expectant.

Theron stared at Jace for a few seconds, and he thought he was going to blow a blood vessel. “Given my life and the fact that I am still an active spy, I’m just pleased to see the far side of 35. A life with her is a bonus I probably don’t deserve.”

Theron had to look back out at Eva again, or else he was pretty sure he would break his promise not to get into a fight with Jace. She had meant a fight with words, but Theron was pretty sure her request also covered him breaking his hand on Jace’s hard head. 

“I just – sorry. It’s - I can tell you’re happy,” Theron heard Jace stumbled through an apology. “I –”

“Thanks for noticing.”

A response didn’t emerge from Jace for some time. Eventually, Theron gave him a sidewise glance.

Jace was staring at him, hard. The first Jace had done this, it was during one of their first meetings at a caf shop. They knew what their biological relationship was. Jace admitted he’d been studying Theron, trying to see himself in him after so many years of looking in the mirror at a scarred, permanently altered face. 

This time, Theron figured out he was looking for someone else. “So when was the last time you saw her?”

Jace dropped his eyes, slightly abashed he’d been caught. “I’m not spy material.”

“Definitely not. The question stands.”

Jace reached for his cup of water that he’d had with his lunch, the vessel dwarfed by his hands. “She came back to Coruscant shortly before the Alliance won the Throne. Before I saw you at Iokath. I offered her resources to restart the temple. She sent me to some recruit who barely knew what end of the lightsaber lit up in order to establish supply chain. Then she was gone again. It was a short conversation.” 

Theron cast a gaze at the window, making sure he could still see his coat outside. “Better than me, then. I haven’t seen her since the Ziost debrief. The unofficial debrief.” He’d gone to Satele’s apartment for advice.

This time, Jace caught the expression on his face, and apparently, he knew about that meeting. “Don’t hate her. You wanted to save your career. You did what she said. She was right at the time. Nobody knew Eva would become –” Now Jace looked out the window at the figure that wore Theron’s coat. “She meant, temporarily, you should – ”

“We were all the same,” Theron cut Jace off. “The three of us. Our careers and the Republic – everything else mattered less than them, and we were so self-righteous about it.” He looked out the window again. She was still there, hair increasingly white with snow. 

“We’re all holo-shy, too.” 

That caused Theron to look at Jace, brow creased, puzzled. “That’s non sequitur.”

Jace shrugged, awkwardly. “It’s true. You are. I mean, it’s obvious why I am.” He gestured up at his face. “I still don’t unless some P.R. clown tells me it’s necessary.” Jace thought for a moment. “There’s a five-year period where I made sure there weren’t any holos of me.”

That sounded familiar to Theron.

Jace continued to speak. “And Satele never let me take holos of her while we were here. I might have let myself be in a few holos with her…but she didn’t want anything to appear less than professional or come back to haunt us.”

That made Theron smirk, darkly. “Twenty-six years later…”

“The idea of you or someone similar never haunted me,” Jace replied quickly, so quickly it made Theron pause and not say anything. Hold his tongue, wait for it. “I know you don’t want any details, but – at the time ---” Jace seemed to wrestle out the words in his mind. “I was the happiest I ever was. I don’t have anything like a holo to show for that time now minus a bunch of gaudy medals and –” Jace gestured up at his face silently. Then he hesitated.

Then Jace motioned toward Theron himself. The moment hung in the air. Then Jace spoke again, “You wised up decades before I did. About the job and what mattered.”

It was utterly impossible for Theron to keep an angry expression. Jace looked so sad, but he also looked strangely proud at the same time. Theron looked out the window again at his wife. He said, quietly, “I’m a fool in love, like my father before me.” Theron wasn’t ashamed.

He thought of all the holos she kept on her ship. Those of her parents, who were long gone. Those of old friends and the parties. The ones the crew managed to get of her –

How many hours had he watched them, almost on a loop, when he thought he’d missed out on her. How many stills had he flipped through, officially and unofficially. Hell, how many times had he done both of those things when she was just on Ossus and he was running ops alone off Odessen, both in relative safety.

How many stills and hours would she have had of him if, at Nathema -- ?

He hadn’t thought of it then. He hadn’t thought she would still love him after what he did. If she survived, he could have accepted any consequence, including the ultimate one. That had been his thought.

Somehow, that op grew more grim and more horrifying every time he looked back on it, because he was still that duty-driven, stubborn --

Get out of your head, Theron.

“Hey.” 

Jace’s head snapped up just in time for him to catch the holo cam that Theron flipped into his hands. 

“For her. And you, too, if you want them.” Theron was out the door before he could hear Jace’s reply.

Eva let out a squawk of surprise as he grabbed her from behind, then she chided him for being out there without a coat on. She made a motion to shrug off the one he’d loaned her, but he hauled her around to face the window, arms tightly hugging her. His lips pressed into her now-cold cheek. “You sure?” he heard her ask as she saw Jace aiming the holo cam out toward them. 

“Yeah.” 


	7. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: An interview meme  
> Prompter: kyber-heart  
> Time: Around Onslaught  
> Ships: Theron Shan/Smuggler (Eva) and Akaavi/Mako

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was rendered from a meme on tumblr that I took liberties with.

(Subject sits in room. She slumps down in her chair, boots braced against the wall, tipping the chair back and forth. She awaits the start of the interview.)

(Finally, a voice comes through, heavily modulated and obscured)

**? Name ?** “You have my chaincode, you tell me.”

**Non-cooperation is not recommended.**

(Subject tips chair back one last time before letting it slam back down on the floor. She takes her feet off the wall and looks in the general direction of the voice.) “Eva Corolastor.”

**? Are you single ?** “You’re out of luck. Someone would notice my absence.”

**Insufficient response. Question repeated: ? Are you single ?**

(Subject raises an eyebrow). “No.”

**? Are you happy ?** “You’ve detained me and my ship. What in the Great Galaxy would I be happy about at this moment?”

**Insufficient response. Question repeated: ? Are you happy ?** “Your human interaction sector on your interpretation board is insufficient. I’m generally a happy person, but I’d be happier if I wasn’t here.”

**Feedback noted. ? Are you angry ?** “Yes, because I do not want to be here.” 

**? Are your parents still married ?** (smirk) "If you take the words ‘til death do us part’ literally, then no.”

## NINE FACTS

(Subject raises eyebrows at pronouncement)

**? Birth Place ?** “Chaincode says 'in transit.’“

**? Specification ?** "The ship was moving at the time.”

**? General Galactic Location ?** “....Bespin. In the planetary cluster near Bespin.”

**? Hair Color ?** “Your sensors can detect that.”

**Self-Reported Answer Required**.

“Brown. Dark brown.”

**? Eye Color ?** "Red-brown.”

**? Birthday ?** “What was the point of taking my chaincode and my wallet if you’re just going to ask me the same stuff in here?”

**Insuffic--**

“Karking hell, your programmer is a disgrace to their mother. One month before Life Day, 10 years before they signed the Treaty in Coruscant.”

**? Mood ?** (Subject stares at holo transceiver.)

“Sober, unfortunately.”

**? Gender ?** “Female.”

**? Summer or winter ?** “What about the other two seasons? Can I choose autumn for the pretty colors and seasonal food?”

**Sufficient Response.** “Thanks.”

**? Morning or afternoon ?** “Night. Not a huge fan of the other options.”

**Insufficient Response. Repeat qu--**

“How is it ok for me to choose a different season but not a different time of day?”

**Insuff-**

“Fine, morning. Early hours. Dawn.”

## EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE?

“Uh oh. I’m not interested in being in your computer master race breeding program -- can I mark that down as a preference?”

**Objection unnecessary; questions are collected for psychological data study.**

“Oh, this should be fun.”

**? Are you in love ?** “Yes.”

**? Do you believe in love at first sight ?** “No. Others do. Not me.”

**? Who ended your last relationship ?**

(Subject blinks) “Define parameters.”

**Processing... what entity ceased to give affection --**

“I think he did, since he did try to terminate me.”

**? Have you ever broken someone’s heart ?** “Yes. And I’m still sorry.”

**? Are you afraid of commitments ?** “No, I just have atrocious taste in partners who are. Were.”

**? Have you hugged someone within the last week ?** “Yes.”

**? Have you ever had a secret admirer ?** “Suggest command: debug illogical question: if secret, then unknown to subject. If known to subject, then not secret. Subject cannot respond.”

**Debug suggestion accepted, duly noted.**

**? Have you ever broken your own heart ?** “Yeah.”

(Subject shifts position in chair.)

## SIX CHOICES

**? Love or Lust ?** “Love. Lust gets boring after awhile.”

**? Lemonade or iced tea ?** “Hot tea. Cold drinks are inferior.”

**Sufficient response**

“Good. You have some redeemable qualities after all.”

**? Cats or Dogs ?** “I despise dogs. Cats. But I’m undeserving of their company.”

**? A few best friends or many regular friends ?** “A few best friends.”

**? Wild night out or romantic night in ?** “The two events are not mutually exclusive or unable to be concurrent. The choice is nonbinary.“

**Sufficient Response: logic circuit satisfied.**

**? Day or night ?** “Oh, that’s why you wouldn’t let me answer night before. Fine. Night. Your programmer is also a disgrace to his father, whoever he is.

## FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

**? Been caught sneaking out ?** “Apparently, that’s what happened earlier today.”

**? Fallen down/up the stairs ?** “Yes.”

**? Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt?**

(Subject stares down at floor.)

“Yes.”

**? Wanted to disappear ?** (Subject’s vocal volume decreases.) “Yes.”

## FOUR PREFERENCES

“Wait a second. What happened to the fifth ‘have I ever’?”

**Processing....**

**Processing....**

(Subject stands up.)

“There were not five questions. There were only four.”

**Processing...**

“FOUR.”

(Subject walks to mirrored observation transparisteel and raps on it.)

“FOUR.”

**Repeat Request.**

“What happened to the fifth ‘have I ever’?”

**? Have you ever lied about loving someone ?**

(Subject hits transparisteel one last time.) “No.”

**Processing...**

**Processing...**

**Please be seated**.

(Subject stares at observation window. Subject returns to seat. Subject sits down, legs and arms crossed.)

“Hurry it up then.”

## FOUR PREFERENCES

**? Smile or eyes ?** “Eyes. But I have someone with both.” (Subject displays small smile)

**? Shorter or Taller ?** “Taller.” 

**? Intelligence or Attraction ?** “Intelligence. Bad pillow talk is always a mood killer. But his looks don’t hurt either.”

**? Hook-up or Relationship ?** “As long as the relationship keeps it as hot as a hook-up, why should I complain?”

(Subject notices lengthy pause.)

## FAMILY

"Not three things about family? Is your internal counter broken?”

**? Do you and your family get along ?** “My family is my family because I get along with them. They are all chosen.”

**? Would you say you have a “messed up life” ?**

(Subject raises eyebrows.) “It’s a life. Things happen. I deal with it.”

**? Have you ever ran away from home ?** “No, I run away _on_ my home from people.” (Subject smirks.)

**? Have you ever gotten kicked out ? “** Probably from some drinking establishment, somewhere.”

## FRIENDS

**? Do you secretly hate one of your friends ?** “Wouldn’t be a secret if I told, but no.”

**? Do you consider all of your friends good friends ?** “We all need some acquaintances to make the galaxy go ‘round. So no. Not all friends are close friends.”

**? Who is your best friend ?** “Platonicly, my Wookiee, who is probably going to dismantle you when he finds me here.”

**? Who knows everything about you ?** (Subject smiles broadly) “You do, _darling.”_

**INTERVIEW SESSION TERMINATED**

The transparisteel observations window was blasted into the interview room. Eva’s hands instinctively went up to shield her face as she rose and backed up toward the wall. Her ears rang, and she almost didn’t hear the voice at the far end of the room.

“Captain!” a familiar voice called out.

Eva lowered her arms and started to fan at the smoke that was slowly filling the room. “My Mando in shining beskar. Good to see you, Akaavi.”

Akaavi stepped through the shattered window, armored feet crunching the shards beneath her. “Are you unharmed?”

“Yeah. Did I buy enough time?” Eva came away from the wall and reached for the gunbelt that Akaavi held out for her. 

“Yes, Captain, I have a message for you.” Akaavi reached into one of the security pockets of her armor and offered an earpiece.

Eva swiftly tapped it into her ear as she put on her gunbelt. A familiar voice crackled through her ear. “You can be difficult when you want to be.”

Eva smiled. “Hey, Agent Shan. How’d the slice go?”

“Slice went perfectly from up here -- already wiped their databanks after extraction; we have our copy. Mako is almost done with the local system information, and we can turn that base into something useful for the Alliance. Or Voidfleet, depending how much you want Lana to know about this op,” Theron offered. “Either way, it’s not going to jam up our pilots anymore. When did you know I sliced in?”

“Computer got too polite -- you said ‘please.’”

“I’ll work on being ruder next time. I definitely knew you knew when you started.... disclosing details.” He cleared his throat. “You two make tracks to the bay -- I’ll start the _Thief_.”

“Drinks at 7. See you in a few minutes, Theron. Eva out.”


	8. Trembling Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Period: After the main smuggler story  
> Prompt: Trembling hands, featuring Risha  
> Prompter: Halethebop  
> Ships: None

“That’s got to stop.” 

Risha turned to glare at Eva. “It was a high-pressure situation. I stayed in character and got out safely. What would you –”

Eva shook her head as she entered into the light of the ship’s entryway. “You handled it fine, ultimately. But if anyone had been smart enough to notice your hands, you’d be dead. They’d know it wasn’t me.”

Risha didn’t reply. The glare intensified, the haughty woman demanding an explanation from her captain. 

Eva pointed at her hands. “Your hands. They’re trembling. Even now. The adrenaline, the fear, the pressure.”

Risha looked down at her hands, holding them up slightly in front of her. “They didn’t notice.” The vibrations were minuscule.

“I did. And you’re me, in theory. We are the same, when we’re wearing that mask,” Eva answered readily.

Risha scoffed. “Don’t tell me you never get nervous in the field – I’ve seen you –”

Eva waved off her words. “The hands never shake. They can’t shake. Every action with my hands is deliberate when I’m in the suit.” She paused. “There are days where I do get the shakes while I’m the Voidhound – but you have to steal off to a hallway or a closet or do _something_ to hide them.” She swallowed once. “Those are only really bad, rare days.”

Risha knew exactly what she meant. All the same: “So how do you expect me to do the impossible - to stop an uncontrollable physiological reaction?”

Her hands went to her hips, and Eva pointed mirrored her. “It’s controllable. To the lounge we go then.”

Eva turned to leave, but Risha’s voice stopped her march. “What the hell are you going to try to teach me?”

“How not to shake when your ship is being fired on. How not to tremble when you have the perfect hand of pazaak. How not to twitch when you and some other random spacer are in an argument and you know they’ve got something to pull on you somewhere.” Eva turned to look over her shoulder. “Essentially, Hadrian Corolastor’s Finishing School for 6-year-old Smugglers.”

“I’m Nok Drayen’s daughter,” came the sharp, offended retort.

“You grew up with bodyguards and then hid yourself away to keep alive. Now we’re performing on one hell of a galactic stage where we need people to look and stare and be distracted — or so you say.” A beat. “I like you alive. Let’s get started.”


	9. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time: Immediately after Nathema; Theron has recovered  
> Prompt: I trusted you  
> Prompter: commanderlurker  
> Ships: a broken down Eva Corolastor (Smuggler)/Theron Shan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just spawned into something that will probably be part of the Guss Nathema fic at some point - I’ve tried to cut it to the quick here so the plot bunny doesn’t gobble me alive. POV is off, though, so I’d have to fix that…

“How could you. I nearly sold myself into _slavery_ in order to secure those loans –”

“Bahhh, I know my little sharks. They don’t do that sort of thing – now.” Eva’s crew swept through the smuggler’s den in preparation for their departure. Eva was offloading files from the smuggler’s den databank to merge with Port Nowhere. 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me those _thieves_ were _yours_?”

Eva’s eyes never left the screen. “You never asked. You were awful keen to teach the Voidhound a thing or two. You were all too happy to be in the game again and make me feel like a snot-nosed little kid who didn’t know supply line from bottom line.” A curl of her lips and a dark look in her eye appeared, giving her a ghoulish appearance when paired with the artificial light and her now-sunken cheeks. “You treated me like an idiot. So I decided not to inform you that I’d made better long-term business preparations than _you_ did.”

That brought Hylo up short. Hylo’s eyes scanned the room looking for Lana. They found him instead: Theron, who lurked in the entryway. “I was told I was your hero. That you even named your cat after me.”

“The mighty fall all the time. And you were my hero when I was a little kid, yeah. I thought I was a kid in those carbonite dreams.” Now Eva’s eyes snapped up to look at Hylo, and the older woman took a few steps back. “I woke up. I just didn’t blow my load until now, when I frankly don’t care if anyone is here when I get back.”

Hylo looked over at Theron again. What did this mean for the Alliance?

He didn’t know. Honest to the gods, he didn’t know. 

“You know, I trusted you.” The Miralan smuggler fumed at her younger counterpart, at a safer distance as Eva turned to scan a weapons rack. 

“Hylo, after everything we’ve been through, we _both_ should know that’s not a great idea.” Eva grabbed at a small blaster mounted on the wall and briefly checked its barrel and condition. Finding it acceptable, she pocketed it. “Anyway, all it means is you don’t got to worry about paying anymore. I’ll just take the planet. I’m done with this role that I’ve been made to play for the good of the galaxy.”

Bowdaar gave a roar to indicate he was done with his looting and needed to get his stuff on _Virtue’s Thief._ Eva gave him a sharp nod and walked toward the exit. Hylo yelled down from her platform after her, “What do I tell them?” She gestured at the denizens who watched with wide eyes and shock. 

“You tell them that I’m a smuggler. Everything else has been a massive misunderstanding.” 

Eva stared straight in front of her as she walked over the threshold of the smuggler’s den. Theron took his chance. He stepped in front of her and braced for her to run into him, jarring whatever work the kolto had already done to knit him back together.

No. That didn’t happen. Eva had become so thin since he left that she easily contorted to dodge him. Theron desperately tried to catch her eye, to make her look at him, to see him for the first time since that proposal had gone wrong yesterday. She evaded him entirely.

Stars, she was more wraith than woman now.

As she marched down the hallway, she held up three fingers – thumb, pointer, and middle finger of her right hand. She didn’t look back, but her voice rang out. “Three months, Agent Shan. I need it. Your karking _hair_ needs it.”

Point taken. 


	10. New Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed some fluff to offset what I'm writing in The Grand Reveal. So here's that Vette and Risha reunion we've been waiting for for 10 years.
> 
> Timeline: Post KotET  
> Prompt: Awesome tumblr post on crossover ideas for the various classes  
> Ships: Theron Shan/Smuggler and Akaavi Spar/Mako

_Hey. Grab Vette from wherever and a six-pack from the cantina – the bartender will know which one._

Theron stared at the Holonet message in his head, eyebrow arching as he composed a reply. _That request sounds…interesting._

_Dream on. Just bring both of ‘em to the hangar. I’ll be landing in about 20._

Theron shook his head, about to object to Eva’s insinuation, but he let it drop. There wasn’t anyone else he wanted but that her, and she knew it. If she didn’t, he’d enlighten her later after she delivered whatever surprise she had for Vette. 

**

“So I’ve been running the Star Fortress sims since I arrived – getting better at it. What would you think of Blizz and me as a team?” Vette had been dropping hints about running independent ops for awhile, and now she’d just cut to the chase to try to get Theron to set her up with something more substantial.

“I think we need to talk about group composition.”

“With the amount of explosives that little guy has on him –”

“It’s exponentially more concerning to me.” Theron gave her a look. Vette was a good operative, but much like Eva, she needed someone slightly less chaotic to partner with. Someone relatively more orderly and cautious while still allowing for a little creativity – Bowdaar fit that bill for the smuggler, and strangely, so did Theron. (Lana had sworn off running partnered ops with Eva unless necessary; med staff felt Lana’s ulcer waxed and waned based upon how much improvisation Eva had come up with during any given mission.)

Blizz was not that Jawa. That was why he was partnered up with Torian Cadera and currently on mission away from Odessen.

Theron and Vette reached the half-way point on the catwalk that led to _Virtue’s Thief’s_ private landing site and watched as the ship descended. Theron switched the hand that held the requested beer as he waited, somewhat impatiently; he could be working right now, right up to the moment Eva de-boarded, but no, he was delivering one six-pack of cheap Ord Mantell beer and one Twi’leek. 

Despite his internal grousing, Theron found himself grinning when he finally caught sight of that familiar brunette head as the gangplank lowered. It’d been a couple of weeks since she, Bowdaar, C2, and Guss had gone off to follow-up on leads pertaining to the rest of the missing crew. 

Eva saw him waiting and flashed him a smile, then gestured for both him and Vette to wait one minute. Eva disappeared momentarily back into the ship and reemerged with an unexpected number of sentients. First down the gangplank was Akaavi Spar, ever confident and ever intimidating. Despite losing an obscene amount of credits to her on Yavin, Theron was gratified to see her in one piece and sporting her own, new set of armor – a set Eva had funded shortly before her disappearance. Akaavi always did have the best sabacc face of the bunch; if she was impressed by Odessen, she gave no sign. 

Theron was mildly surprised to see that trailing along behind Akaavi, holding her hand, was Mako. He hadn’t seen her since Rishi, since the Grand Champion had – yeah. It’d been awhile. Mako’s head turned to absorb the entire base as quickly as she could, and her awe was evident. 

The two women – so different, but the connection between them was obvious. Akaavi finally made eye contact with Theron and gently tugged Mako’s hand, making sure she was aware of the former SIS man. Eva had apparently briefed the two of them on ‘the situation’ between the smuggler and the spy; Akaavi gave him a nod, and Mako a polite smile. 

Theron wouldn’t blame Mako if they never did quite become friends. 

“Agent Shan. Ready for the show?” Akaavi asked, voice surprisingly light. 

Vette tilted her head to look at Theron, an unspoken “huh?” on her face.

At the top of the gangplank were now Eva, Bowdaar, and Guss, and they were speaking with Corso Riggs. He looked better than the haggard drifter Theron had last seen. A brief flash of memory, and Theron adjusted his grip one more time on the beer, shifting his weight. 

Corso always bought Eva her favorite dessert from Naboo; she always bought him his favorite beer from Ord Mantell.

A gasp from Vette redirected Theron’s attention from Corso. Vette’s eyes had grown huge as she stared up at the figures still on the _Thief_. Theron followed her line of sight up to …Risha Drayen. The pieces fell together, now that Theron knew Eva had finally been successful in finding her crew. He stifled a laugh and let himself just stare at the Captain, the one who had been so shocked upon finding Vette, the one who then became so obsessed with finding Risha. 

She caught him looking at her and went back to talking to Risha and Corso at the top of the gangplank. Theron distantly overheard Risha say, “Well, let’s see how you’ve done with _this_ backwater,” in that haughty tone she’d always used to hide herself.

Risha didn’t make it more than a few steps before she saw who was already moving toward her on the catwalk. She froze. The arrogant mask dropped away, and Theron saw what remained of the child Risha had once been – before the summer of trees in Corellia, before her father’s death, before she had been shaped into something that appeared heartless (which couldn’t be further from the truth, he had learned from Eva).

“Vette?” Risha’s low voice cracked, and her eye makeup was in imminent danger within seconds. 

“Rish,” Vette confirmed as she started move faster toward the other woman – her sister in another life. Vette’s lekku flew out behind her as she reached top speed. Risha was still dazed and slowly took steps down the gangplank. Theron strafed to the side and let his hip hug the railing as he moved toward _Virtue’s Thief_. 

Vette nearly bowled Risha over, and though she remained standing, Risha let her blaster rifle drop off her shoulder as she embraced her. As Theron quietly passed them on the way up the gangplank, he heard:

“Didn’t think you’d survive.”

“Thanks, you too.” 

Then the sort of relieved laughter that came from reunions – so much had changed yet so little had. 

As Theron reached the top of the gangplank, he found that Eva, Corso, Guss, and Bowdaar were already sitting at the top, looking down on the scene. Eva grinned up at Theron, but said to her crewmate, “I did even better for you, Corso.”

A pause, then a chuckle. “Hot damn, I can’t believe you found some – brewery shut down due to the Zakuul vice taxes. What’s your next trick, walking on water?” Corso reached both hands out to Theron – one to take the beer, and the other to shake the man’s hand. “Thanks, Theron.”

He’d promised Corso he’d find her. Promise kept. 

Eva tugged on Theron’s pant leg, urging him to sit down next to her. As Risha and Vette continued their teary reunion, Corso was quick to break open the six pack and distribute the bottles, keeping the spare himself. “Akaavi hates the stuff,” he offered as a way of explanation. “She’s going to Lana to see if she and Mako can have a bunk together and probably find something less disgusting to drink.”

Theron peered at the bottle in his hand before taking a swallow. He’d had worse. Eva waved across the docks at Akaavi. Theron couldn’t quite see from this distance, but he thought he saw white, shiny glints of teeth from the Zabrak. And it wasn’t her angry face. 

Eva took a deep swallow, until the bubbles tickled her nose, and then she just sat there, looking exceedingly pleased with herself. “I win.”

Bowdaar (whose bottle was hilariously dwarfed in his hand) grunted at her. “You won against the Empire.”

Eva dismissed it. “This is better.” 

“Gang’s back together.” Guss held his bottle in both hands. 

Eva took another swallow. “Gang’s bigger.” She nudged Theron with her hip, and he playfully nudged her back. “When are Torian and Blizz due back?”

“Few days. You tell Mako?”

“Nope.” In profile, Theron could see that devilish grin break over her face. 

The winning streak would continue. He’d drink to that. 


	11. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic Blurb for 6.2: Echoes of Oblivion that wouldn't stop bugging me.
> 
> Timeline: A few weeks after Satele Shan and her students are rescued in 6.2  
> Prompt: The feels from that 6.2 Theron letter  
> Ships: Theron Shan/Eva Corolastor (smuggler)

“For a guy who writes some amazing love letters, you can still be a real jerk.”

Eva watched as Theron came back into view, walking backwards to stare at her; he’d just left their quarters on _Virtue’s Thief_ to get her breakfast from the galley.

He would wake up first now, brew the caf, then serve it to her in bed. He’d even convinced Bowie to let him into the galley to observe, so that he could deliver an early morning meal to her.

Eva had always made the caf on the ship. Theron had rarely cooked for himself, never for a lover. She was smart enough to know that men don’t change just because they’re married (neither do women).

But this one had, curiously.

These changes occurred and became common in the weeks following the final battle with the Sith Emperor – whoever the hell he was. 

Eva would always seek an explanation exclusive of the Force first, but now she had to weigh it (toward the bottom) with other rational options. It was a change for her. Theron had endured in his patience, from their earliest days of association and her general shunning of Force disciplines and their participants to where they were now.

Now he looked at her, forehead creased with questioning and slight confusion as he stood in their bedroom doorway. “Is the breakfast really that bad?”

Eva chuckled and readjusted the grip on her caf mug. “No. It’s better every time. But the better you get at breakfast, the shorter your temper is with everyone else except me.”

The muscles in his chest and arms flexed as he wordlessly shrugged off the comment. 

Eva put the caf mug in a long-repurposed ash tray on her nightstand and folded back the edge of the blanket that he had so carefully tucked around her when he had gotten up. The silent invitation to come back to bed was accepted. Soon, like many mornings and nights over the last few weeks, Theron had coiled himself around her, his strong warm body pressed to hers. This often resulted in one of two things, and neither of those things was a conversation. 

If Theron could change his morning habits, Eva could resist her two primary reactions to this. “So, the blow-up with Lana over letting me go play with the Mandos?”

“Too soon after everything with the Sith Emperor.” 

“The breaking of not one but two datapads against the war room console, one caused by one of your trainee spies injuring herself in a simulated op and the other caused by Oggurobb with a ‘whoops’ in his lab?”

“They knew protocol, and they both knew better.”

“Yelling at T7 when he pulled the wrong dataset for you?”

“He got it wrong.”

“Yelling at T7 is like kicking a Toolan ice puppy. There’s no justification –”

“He’s no T3.”

Eva pulled her face back from the skin where his neck met his shoulder in order to look up at him. “Now that’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time. Mostly because you won’t talk about him.”

Theron looked down at her for a moment, then he changed his mind to kiss her on the forehead and pull her back into him. “He didn’t make it through the five years. He was rendered no longer operational.” 

Eva couldn’t get a read on his face when he did that. She pulled back to look at him again. “When?” This time, she resisted his strength and remained defiantly looking up at him, side by side in bed.

“Less than a year after you disappeared. Around my birthday.” 

Eva could see Theron keeping his face neutral. They’d been together for so long, she knew when he was making an effort as opposed to honestly being detached from the issue. “That was the birthday you drank your bottle of Creme d’Infame and didn’t remember it.”

“Yeah.”

Theron never did taste her gift to him after borrowing T3 all those years ago; his first conscious taste of the exceedingly opulent beverage was when they mutually seduced each other the first night he was on Odessen.

“Was that the birthday Jace told you at the last second he was having a heart procedure?”

The two men had joked about it when they’d last visited Jace’s home on Alderaan. Eva had detected that it had indeed been all fun and games for Jace – but perhaps not Theron. 

Now Theron maintained their staring contest as he offered up one more piece of information. “And yes, that was the first birthday after Satele left without a word.”

“Because of the Eternal Fleet. Because Marr and I couldn’t –”

Suddenly, Theron’s hands were on the sides of her face, pulling her up closer to him, his eyes nearly feral in their intensity. “No, that wasn’t your fault. That was her _choice._ She felt like she had to leave, no matter –” 

He stopped himself there and she could feeling him consciously reeling himself in, the arms around her less tight, the hands on her face more gentle, the eyes de-escalating back to something more civilized. 

“No matter how friendly you’d become?” Eva asked quietly.

Theron’s face never quite made it back to that neutral, SIS-trained mask. “After Ziost, because we were ‘friendly,’ I took her advice and made you stay away for the sake of my career. Then you were gone, and you didn’t want to be. Then Satele left of her own volition without a ‘friendly’ goodbye or a heads up.” 

“And now you’re getting ‘friendly’ again,” Eva supplied, thinking back to the letter he’d sent her from a datapad in the lounge while she was up in the cockpit. "You wrote me a love note extolling whatever virtue I had, mentioned how you were reaching out more to her, and noted how she seems to finally approve of having an outlaw for an in-law. You’ve treated me like something just short of a goddess–” Eva paused here as Theron shifted his grip on her to a position that would allow him quicker access to the fastenings of her nightwear. “– and you’ve just been an abject bastard to everyone else.”

That foiled those intentions. Theron went still, but he wasn’t angry. Something unreadable went past his eyes as he studied her face. Eva let herself relax into him and be subject to his gaze – she wasn’t looking for a fight, just an explanation. After an indeterminate period of silence, he spoke. “As much hope as I have for the future – for you and me –” Theron gave her waist a squeeze. “–I don’t know about Satele and me. No matter how positive our conversations are, there’s always this anticipation that it’ll be the last one. That she will be gone again.” He let a sigh past his lips. “The last time she did, it wasn’t just her and me – it was in the context of all of those other things I lost or thought I lost. I’m not just anticipating that she’ll go. I’m anticipating the next crisis that will _cause_ her to go and do gods know what else to the galaxy.” 

Eva moved her right hand to his face, sliding it along his jaw briefly before finding its home tenderly alongside his implants. His eyes shut as he leaned into the motion. He opened them again when she offered a response. "Remember on Yavin – when you showed me your holostills from when you were a kid? You said you envied me because when I looked at my old holos, I took them for what they were and just that – happy moments.”

“I couldn’t look at mine and enjoy them because I always had to think of the context.” Theron ran a thumb over her cheekbone. “And that’s currently causing me to be the best husband in the universe but possibly the worst operations manager.”

“The most surly; you’re still good at your job, but your people skills are terrible.”

He guffawed at that. “Thanks.” Theron let himself sink into the mattress and his pillow for the first time during this entire conversation. “So your advice is to enjoy it for what it’s worth. And then? If?”

Eva had to shrug. “Don’t know. We’ll be here together, though.” 

The way Theron’s eyes shifted in color and the way his face softened told her that the fact she wasn’t going to leave him – or consider leaving him – was still a novelty. 

The way he wrapped himself around her and then kissed her told her it was a day for brunch, not breakfast. 


End file.
